worn toes, warm hearts
by inkedinserendipity
Summary: Nights on the beaches of Motunui can get chilly.


Shoutout to cari28ch3-me, tenacious-dingo and jadeoccelot for giving me excuses to write this fic. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Long ago, Moana's grandmother had taught her the legends that gleam in the spread of their stars. Backs against this very strip of the shore, the moon glinting over the whispering waves, Grandma Tala showed her the way Tagaloa stays always at one point in the sky, permanent and ever-steady, arms spread to embrace his own creations; how Te Fiti glistens over the predawn horizon, her stars glimmering toward her island; how Tilafaiga's tattoos draw an X pointed directly north, ever true for those who would set their sails toward voyaging.

"Y'know, tonight's not a great night for stargazing."

Moana doesn't need the deep vibrations that accompany Maui's footsteps to tell her who, exactly, has found her refuge. "Every night's a good night for stargazing, Maui."

A disbelieving snort. "Yeah, if you've got chickens for brains."

"It's 'if you've got the brains of a chicken'."

"I'm a demigod, o Chosen One. I can make up whatever phrases I want."

The sand shifts against her side as Maui lowers himself to the ground, grunting a quiet oof as he settles his back against the shore. Then, after a brief moment, he crosses his hands behind his head.

As the silence continues, Moana returns her gaze to the stars. If she looks really hard, she can catch the rounded outline of Taema, slightly faded against the comparative brilliance of her sister. She's a bit blurry, like Tagaloa took a cloud and pushed it behind her, but Moana can definitely make out the curve that forms her stomach.

"Want to, uh, talk about it?" Maui offers uncomfortably. Moana shakes her head.

His cheeks flutter as he exhales out of the corner of his mouth. "Stubborn as always," he mutters to himself. Then, louder, "Fine, go ahead and mope by yourself."

"Okay."

Another exasperated exhale. "Look, Curly, I can leave you to nostalgic lamenting no problem. But although you're tough as a conch shell, even you've gotta be cold out here."

She's not _moping_. Moana has a good, one-hundred percent dignified reason for shivering on the beachside the evening before the _'ava_ ceremony that will bestow upon her the title of Chief. It's there, for sure, even if she can't think of what it is. Certainly doesn't have anything to do with the grief that pulses through her whenever she looks skyward and remembers how her grandmother would muss her hair, smiling conspiratorially as she pointed out one of Tilafaiga's bands, telling her that one day, the legends of Moana would circle Tilafaiga's head just like the stories of their ancestors.

Her grandmother would have loved this Motunui. She would have loved this big, brave island full of swelling songs and the joy of exploring, sails stuffed with wind and hulls full of food, of pets and supplies that press against the sturdy wood. She would have leapt landward for every stop, age was overtaken by the joy of voyaging.

"I've definitely lived through colder," she says, and the cheeriness in her voice is dulled by the nostalgia twinging in her chest.

"Curly, that's - okay that's honestly a terrible argument. You can't just decide that you've had it worse and then choose to not make it better. Pretty much everything's _been worse_ at some point."

The sheer indignation in his tone has Moana suppressing a laugh. When, exactly, did Maui get so caught up in semantics? "It's the principle of the thing."

"That makes even less sense. I didn't think that being tough as a conch shell would get you the _brains_ of one, too."

"Conch shells don't have brains," she points out reasonably, before realizing just what she's said.

"And she continues to prove my point," Maui narrates to Mini-Maui, gazing expectantly at the blank scoreboard. In response, Mini-Maui shrugs pointedly at his larger incarnation. Then he winks at Moana.

"I like him better than you," Moana grins.

"He's made of ink."

"Yet somehow he's got a bigger heart."

Maui turns a glare toward her and, placing one huge hand over his heart, deadpans "You wound me."

"Good," she snorts, and the warmth flooding her core manifests itself in a smile she can't seem to repress. "I'm always up for taking your ego down a notch."

"Yep, I'm sure you are. But I'm _serious_ , don't distract me. It's about time you put that big brain of yours to sleep, Chosen One, since it's a big day tomorrow and I'm gonna be really upset if all my hard work goes to waste because you fall asleep with your head in your drink."

"Uh-huh."

"Do you know how hard it is to get the _'ava_ to pour correctly? It's pretty darn hard, Curly. I think I've got _'ava_ strains in my hair," he grumbles, running his fingers through his precious hair and flicking his hands exaggeratedly. "Thousand years later and I would've thought you guys would come up with a better way to grind those fruits to a pulp."

"Being _tufa'ava_ is an honor, Maui, stop your whining."

"No, having a feast thrown in your name is an _honor_. This is just - this is a lot of work. I'm a demigod who likes his spare time, Curly, so you'd better be grateful. I've spent three hours with your father going over everyone's names. Three hours! You know how many Tanes there are in Motunui? There are -"

"Seven."

"- seven Tanes, Fish - oh. Yeah. Seven Tanes. All three of them are even about the same age too, Curly. How am I gonna keep track of 'em all? When they're that young, they all look the same." He grins. "Same big eyes and black hair and fascination with my rippling pecs." He's flexing. Of course he's flexing.

Moana huffs a laugh through her nose. It's true, Maui's role tomorrow is a big one - as _tufa'ava_ , not only does he have to oversee preparation of the _'ava_ drink, but he has to know who to give it to, and that means knowing everyone's names, and that means a lot of last-minute quizzing from Moana's father to make sure Maui doesn't mess something up just because a lot of young men tend to look the same to eyes that have seen several thousand years' worth of them come and go.

"Oh no," she replies archly, laughing despite herself, "I wonder what it would be like to be tasked with so much work."

"You wish you knew what it was like to be a demigod," he winks, then shuffles closer in the sand. On anyone else, the movement might be subtle, but Maui's three times too large for anything he does to be less than grandiose and pretentious.

"You know," he starts, "there are blankets aplenty in the _fale tele_. I think Fetuilelagi's coerced Rangi and your darling niece into sleeping over tonight. I doubt they'd mind too much if you stole one."

"I know, but that's so far away."

"It's like three minutes on your feet."

"Details."

Maui sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Or, y'know, your cape. Cape? Is it a cape? That drapey thing. You know what it's called, the one with all the red leaves. It's right in your _fale_ , just pop by and grab it. You'll be a lot warmer."

"Still really far away."

"You used to complain so much about how close your _fale_ was to the sea. One hundred steps. You counted so many times, Curly, it wouldn't kill you to walk those hundred steps for your cape-y thing."

"Yeah, but it's cold."

Maui stares at her. On his chest, Mini-Maui squints disbelievingly. "Exactly."

"No, I mean I can't get up. I'm freezing over, and I can't move my legs," she complains, shaking them for emphasis. "Help me, Maui. I'm freezing solid."

"Okay now you're just being immature."

"Says the one with a smaller rendition of himself engraved on his chest!"

"I had absolutely zero say in that."

"Help me, O Demigod of the Wind and Sea," she grins again, the pressure of earlier this evening disappearing under Maui's exasperated gaze. "I can't feel my toes."

"At this exact moment, Fishfeet, all five of them are wiggling," he says, gesturing toward her feet. Which are, indeed, wiggling. She picks up her second foot, her grin growing wider and wider. "All ten," he amends dryly.

"I need my 'cape-y thing'," she whines, turning a pleading gaze on her demigod. She curls her hand covertly in the sand. "I definitely need a big strong immortal to get it for me before I freeze to death."

"You're big and strong enough, Chosen One." He glances pointedly at her and amends, "Well, strong enough. Go get it yourself."

Moana looses a yelp and shakes her hand frantically, spilling sand all over his chest. He jumps and tries to scoot away from her, shuffling backward on his wrists. "My hands too! Oh, Maui, I'm going to _die_ \- "

"I don't know how you made it past two years old," Maui says, disgruntled. His glare could frighten mountains as he brushes sand off his chest.

"Me neither," she replies impishly.

Maui mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _no kidding_. Moana, the epitome of grace, ignores him in favor of wiping the last of the sand off her hands - it's the worst, all those tiny grains stuck between her fingers.

After a few moments pass and Maui deems her hands sandless, he settles himself cautiously back at her side. "For real, Moana. You need to sleep at some point. I'd hate to dish out _'ava_ to a snoozing Chief, and besides that would be uncomfortable for the whole island."

"I will at some point. I just... wanted to look at the stars."

For a while, there is no sound but the crashing of the waves on the shore. And as much as Moana took it in jest, it is pretty chilly on the beach. It's admittedly kinda ridiculous, that she's sitting here shivering while her people have fire and warmth, but she doesn't feel _too_ frosty. Stopped feeling cold a couple hours ago, actually.

She really should be asleep. But however she'd tried to rest her eyes, dreams would not come.

At her side, Maui presses his arm against hers. Then he frowns. "Moana, you're shivering."

"Because it's cold," she replies archly, not appending a _duh_ because she's a good friend.

"No, I'm serious - there's no point in freezing just because you're too stubborn to walk for three minutes. Your _fale_ is so close, and so are like fifty blankets. Just go grab one."

"Eh." Moana fiddles with her fingers. "Don't want to head back just yet."

"What do you mean? Just pop in, grab it and say ta-ta! You can come back out afterward."

"If I'm spotted, then I'll have to do something else. Y'know, kiss some babies or something." She shoots him a wry grin. "Or worse, they'll make me go to sleep."

For a long second, Maui just looks at her. Then, "You're really irritating, you know that," Maui grumbles into the silence.

Moana blinks out her reverie. His arm shifts against hers, and to her surprise, when she looks to her side he's got his arms open. "Out of all the things I'm excellent at - and my repertoire is extensive, let me remind you, I can do anything from fish to _pull islands out of the sea_ \- all that to choose from, and you pick a blanket."

"Maui, are you -"

"You look cold," he replies, exasperated, and flaps his wrist in a _come here_ motion.

Moana doesn't think twice. She scoots forward and tucks herself against his chest, and Maui yanks his pointy sharkteeth necklace out of the way of her skull just in time. He's surprisingly warm for a night as cool as this one, with the breeze coming off the sea, but she's certainly not complaining. As he settles his arms around her shoulders, he taps her uncomfortably, like he's trying to dispel any awkwardness with gratuitous back-pats.

"Tired mortals, honestly," he mutters. "How's that, huh? Warmer?"

"My toes are much happier," she assures him, words muffled against his chest.

Her cocoon shakes as he laughs. "I'm glad for your toes, then," he says, voice light and amused.

Moana shifts her arms into a more comfortable position, uncurling them from around her chest and slipping them around his sides instead. It's kinda pathetic, she can hardly reach halfway around him. Not her fault he's got a barrel for a chest. She smushes her toes against his knees and takes great pleasure from the annoyed grunt that comes from his chest, accompanied by his chin falling in place over her head.

Moana slowly stops shivering as feeling returns to her limbs. Only as Maui encases her in his warmth does she finally realize just how cold she was. There's a strange prickling all over her body, her muscles slowly stirring back to life, and Moana bites down on the urge to shake them awake (and end up kicking Maui in the knee) by burying her face in his chest. Her nose is smushed against his sternum. It's not as painless as it sounds, nestled against Maui with feeling returning slowly to her legs. But it's warm and comfortable enough that moving is her last priority.

Honestly, Maui doesn't give himself enough credit. He's an _excellent_ blanket. Moana makes a mental note to harass him into sticking around Motunui the next time they spot a storm looming over the horizon, because no one serves as a space-heater quite like her demigod can.

For dozens and dozens of heartbeats, the sound of the sea hums around them. It pulses in one ear, while the other fills with the steady cadence of Maui's heartbeat. Moana represses a yawn and shuffles her shoulders more securely in the sand, curling tighter around him.

A couple hours ago, lying awake in her _fale_ , Moana thought sleep would never come. Now, Moana thinks ruefully, she's almost asleep.

At least, until a quiet voice interrupts her lulling thoughts. "You're gonna do great."

"Hmm?" she asks sleepily, rubbing her eyes awake against Mahuika's hair.

Her cocoon shudders as Maui cranes his neck in an awkward attempt to look at her. Moana stifles a huge yawn and glances upward. "As Chief, I mean," he clears his throat. One of his hands flaps against her back as he rummages around for the right words. "That's what this is about, right? Of course it is. I mean, it's understandable, since being Chief has gotta be, uh, a pretty big deal. I mean the ceremony definitely is so the actual being a Chief part is gonna be at least ten times worse, it already seems like it from the amount you run around this island trying to solve everyone's problems and you're not even induced into the hoity-toity Chief's club yet so being an actual Chief must be -"

"You're rambling." A small smile worms across her face. "But yeah, that's what I was worried about." She sets her forehead against his collarbone again, soaking up his warmth. "Not any more though. I...I think I'll be all right."

"Oh," he says, obviously relieved. Which is good, because typically when Maui tries for comforting he falls short and lands straight into uncomfortable back-patting and terrible puns instead. "Okay then."

"Mhmm," she hums, and yawns once more. His hands settle around her shoulderblades, less tentative. "'m goin' to sleep now."

"Okay."

"Night, Maui."

Moana reclaims one of her arms to fold underneath herself as a pillow, trying not to drift to sleep before she can arrange her neck at a more comfortable angle. She shifts uncomfortably, then Maui nudges his arm underneath her head. With a gratified sigh, Moana tucks her head into his shoulder and closes her eyes.

"Are you sure you don't wanna head back to Motunui?" Maui whispers.

"Nope."

"Oh. Uh. Okay then. Good night, Moana."

The last thing she notices before she falls asleep is his breathing, carefully matched with hers.

And when Moana wakes, she is back in her _fale_ , a blanket of _apu_ tucked securely around her shoulders.

* * *

I'm competing with myself to see how many times I can reference _More_ in a fanfic. "It's a hundred steps from where I sleep to the sea", you're being lazy Moana just get your blanket

Or don't I mean a demigod works equally well

Also, the "drapey" thing that Maui references is actually part of a piece of Moana merch, the Disney Le Doll's cape. It doesn't show up in the movie, but it looks epic.

Last, to everyone following _How Far They'll Go_ \- hope you enjoy today's update. :)

Glossary:

 _Fale_ \- word for a Samoan house or structure.

 _Fale tele_ \- the central building of a Samoan village, oftentimes used as a meeting place or one where storytellers (like Maui) would tell their stories. These buildings tended to be open-air, with no walls. Think the building at the beginning of _Moana_ , during Grandma Tala's tale.

 _'Ava_ ceremony - a Samoan ceremony performed during momentous occasions. These occasions range from reception of guests to the ascension of a new _matai_ , or Chief. In this ceremony, each participant drinks _'ava_. In guest-greeting ceremonies, the visitors drink first; in the case of naming a new _matai_ , the individual to be named drinks first.

 _Tufa'ava_ \- the participant in an _'ava_ ceremony, the orator chief, who calls the names and order of those to receive the _'ava_ drink. Would typically be Tui, I think, but since Tui is Moana's father (part of the host party), I feel like Maui would be a natural next choice. Additionally, playing a role in _'ava_ ceremonies is a huge honor, and would be a strategic move on Sina's part to make Maui more comfortable on Motunui. (Also I'm a sucker for ceremonies of acceptance okay)

 _Apu_ \- Samoan word for "apple".

Tagaloa - the Samoan creator god, to which souls go upon death. His antithesis is Saveasi'uleo, who rules Pulotu, the underworld (analogous to Hades in Greek mythology).

Tilafaiga - twin sister to Taema in Samoan mythology. One of the two goddesses of tattoo, or _tatau_. She learned the art of _tatau_ from a deity called _Tui Fiti_ , who I personally headcanon as being Te Fiti.

Taema - in Samoan mythology, one of the two goddesses of tattoo. Twin sister to Tilafaiga.

Mahuika - the Maori goddess of fire, from whom Maui stole.


End file.
